


Oh, Not Again!

by Serenitys_Lady



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Confrontations, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 02:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11568120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenitys_Lady/pseuds/Serenitys_Lady
Summary: The Doctor contemplates his fate, wondering, yet again, how it came to this.





	Oh, Not Again!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own the Great Man. I just borrow his likeness.

He sat there, assessing the situation, weighing his options.  It wasn’t the first time he had found himself relegated to a jail cell.  It certainly wouldn’t be the last.  He was a renegade Time Lord, after all. 

 

He had never been one for rules.  Back on his home world of Gallifrey, he had been an outcast, an outsider.  So, he stole a TARDIS and ran from anyone and anything that tried to tell him what to do or how to live.

 

He spent his life running.  At the age of eight, he fled from the trauma of gazing into the Untempered Schism.  He endured the rigidity and structure of the Academy, and escaped as soon as he could.  He rejected the official Time Lord policy of non-involvement, of observing the evil in the Universe only, never interfering.  In point of fact, he interfered whenever and wherever he could, when he found imbalance and injustice, fighting against evil in all its forms.

 

He was known by many names throughout time and space.  To the Daleks, he was called Ka Faraq Gatri, the Destroyer of Worlds, the Bringer of Darkness.  Despite his aversion to violence, he became The Oncoming Storm when it was unavoidable and necessary.  He was the Doctor, a healer to some, but a mighty warrior to others.

 

So it was with a touch of dismay and great annoyance that he found himself in his current situation.  He thought he had planned things perfectly.  He had schemed and plotted and strategized.  And still, it had come to this.

 

He stared across at his opponent, trying to decide his next move.

 

“Oh, come on, Dad!” the boy of about 10 years whined, rolling his eyes.  “You do this every time.  You picked the card.  You  _have_  to do it!”

 

A stifled snicker escaped from the woman leaning in the game room doorway.  Her blue-gold eyes and ginger hair matched that of her son.  The Doctor turned his head slightly and said over his shoulder, with a mock snarl, “That’s enough out of you, wife.”

 

Donna walked over and kissed the top of head.  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, husband.  Your son is ruthless.”

 

“He takes after his mother!” he called, grinning, as she slapped his shoulder playfully before leaving the room.  Turning to the boy sitting across the table, he looked at him intently, his brow furrowed, and said, “Remind me again  _why_  I agreed to play Monopoly with you.  I  **hate**  this beastly game!”  Jack just gave him a lopsided grin, much like that of his father’s.

 

With a sigh, the Doctor picked up the little tin dog token and, begrudgingly, moved it to the ‘In Jail’ space on the game board.


End file.
